To the north of Sparta, as she was warring and conquering in the south, rapidly becoming the hegemon of Greece, there lay a small city on a small hill, by all accounts a provincial backwater. This hill, the Acropolis, lay in the region of Attica.
The Atticans had a most unusual creation story. It is said that once the god Hephaestus looked upon the goddess Athena, and was overcome with desire for her. She refused him, but he pursued her, and ejaculated upon her thigh. In disgust, she wiped the mess off with a rag and allowed it to fall to earth. That rag fell on the Acropolis, and from the soil there grew the Atticans. On the site of their creation they built a city and dedicated it to Athena: Athens.
Athens quickly grew to dominate the Attican plain. Not through any force of arms, or particularly vigorous energy, as the Spartans did away to the south. None of that for these lovers of luxury and relaxation! No, it was a simple accident of geography. All the valleys in Attica came together at one point: The Acropolis. It was the most prominent feature of the region, and so the city upon it grew to become the most prominent as well.
It came to pass that in 594, as the Spartans were attacking Tegea, and the Medes and Babylonians were rapidly expanding their empires, the Athenians laid greedy eyes on Salamis, a small island across a narrow strait from the city, the ancient kingdom of Ajax, a hero of the war with Troy. Using arguments from the ancient epics, the scholars of Athens demonstrated that the island properly belonged to the city. News, perhaps, to Megara, a city that lay to the northwest, midway between Athens and the city across the Isthmus to the Peloponnese, Corinth. War broke out between the two sides, and Athens was defeated and humiliated. Megara, by all accounts a tiny, third-rate power in Greece, had defeated the city which commanded the largest land area after Sparta herself!
Something clearly was rotten in the state of Athens, and so the city turned to a man reputed to be one of the seven wisest Greeks in history: Solon. Solon was to examine the problem and prescribe a remedy for the city.
The laws of Solon abolished the helot system that held the poor of Athens in debt to the rich, first and foremost. Then the newly wealthy, that had grown up in the city over the past few decades, were made to ally themselves with the Eupatrids, those of “good fathers,” the well-bred city aristocracy. Wealth, not birth, would now determine rank in Athens, wealth that now even the poorest could hope to one day achieve. No Athenians were slaves, now, but all were free men – a new concept. Now, though the Eupatrids and the newly wealthy still made their laws in the Assembly and jealously clung to their power, it was clear where the true sovereignty of the state lay – with the people. With the demos.
Despite the reforms of Solon, the war over Salamis (which the Athenians had enthusiastically renewed following his ten-year reign) dragged on, to the 560s. It was then that there came a man called Pisistratus. Pisistratus was the general of the Athenians, and it was he who finally brought the war with Megara to a victorious close. Salamis duly passed to the city’s possession, and Pisistratus returned home in triumph.
But he was not alone in acclaim. In that time Athens was firmly under the reign of Lycurgus, the high priest of the Acropolis and a Eupatrid of impeccable breeding. Pisistratus, who had acquired a taste for power while on campaign, desired nothing less than the complete rule of Athens – and Lycurgus stood in his way.
And so it happened that Pisistratus set himself up as the champion of the cause of the rural poor. The general then faked an attempt on his own life. With the life of their great hero in jeopardy, the Athenians voted to allow him a small bodyguard within the city. Pisistratus gratefully accepted this, the only body of armed men in the city – and seized the Acropolis with it.
Some seventy years before Pisistratus, there had lived a man called Cylon in Athens. He was a great athlete, the winner of many of the famous Olympic games. This man grew so puffed up with pride that he had, with a small body of followers, seized the Acropolis and proclaimed himself the master of Athens. The city was thrown into chaos, and vicious battles in the streets broke out. Cylon was driven with his followers into the Acropolis, then into the temple of Athena where they had claimed sanctuary.
The archon at this time was a man by the name of Megacles. Megacles was the head of the clan of the Alcmaeonids, the grandest and most ancient of the Athenian clans. Megacles, to save Athens from the tyranny, which was the form of government of most of the Greek world at this time, had promised Cylon and his followers safe passage. The men had duly exited their temple sanctuary – and were set upon and killed. No tyrant would rule in Athens, at least!
But the crime of Megacles was a terrible one, and so his punishment was terrible, too. The family was powerful, and so delayed things for 30 years, but about five years before the reign of Solon the clan had been exiled from the city of Athens – forever.
Forever was not so long, as it turned out. When Pisistratus followed in the footsteps of Cylon and attempted to set himself up as tyrant, Lycurgus, deprived of allies within the city, turned outside. The Alcmaeonids, ever the opportunists, were ready. They duly allied with Lycurgus and re-entered the city. The prestige of these two mighty clans united was too much for Pisistratus and his followers, and so they fled the city rather than suffer the fate of Cylon.
The two most powerful families in Attica, the Alcmaeonids and the Boutads of Lycurgus, now dominated the city. Such an alliance between two mighty houses could not last, and barely five years after Pisistratus had fled the city, the Alcmaeonids approached him with a daring scheme.
In the country outside of Athens there dwelt a girl by the name of Phye – “Stature.” She was a towering woman of exceptional beauty. Pisistratus adorned her with the helmet and breastplate of Athena, and, placing her in a chariot, sent her into the city with messengers going before them proclaiming the goddess herself had come to Athens. Phye went straight to a massive temple that had been constructed by the Alcmaeonids. Their prestige reached its zenith, and Lycurgus in his turn was driven from the city. Pisistratus took his place.
But he was no longer useful to the wily clan, and so nasty rumors were circulated about his personal life. The Alcmaeonids, in the face of such ugliness, had no choice but to build bridges with Lycurgus and drive Pisistratus from the city. The general was forced into a second exile, and once more the Boutads and the Alcmaeonids ruled the city – but this time there was no doubt as to who was the dominant clan.
They had underestimated their foe. Pisistratus fled – to the great city in the north, Thebes. He found wealthy backers there, and further allies amongst his wife’s family in Argos. For ten years the general built up an invasion force, and at last, in the same year Croesus lost his throne to Cyrus and the Spartans dealt with the Argives once and for all, he moved on Athens. Landing on a beach in the far northeast of Attica, a day’s march from the city, called Marathon, he moved south.
The Alcmaeonids duly led an army out to oppose him, but camped halfway to the site and prepared breakfast. They were shocked when Pisistratus’s army fell upon them – led by the famous Theban cavalry and a thousand crack Argive hoplites, the Athenians had no chance. The battle was lost, many of the clan were killed, and now Pisistratus’s men moved on the city itself. The Alcmaeonids, rather than face the certain persecution and death that awaited them, fled the city.
Pisistratus, after 15 years of struggle, was the tyrant of Athens.
He was a wise tyrant. In addition the armed patrols of Scythians and mercenaries he had in the streets, the general proved a wily politician. He constantly listened to the concerns of the poor, the demos, and administered justice with a firm hand. His aristocratic rivals he either intimidated into submission or bought off with nice sinecures and overseas commands. His most formidable opponent, a man called Miltiades, was convinced to lead an expedition to the Hellespont, far to the northeast, where the sea that separated Europe from Asia narrowed to the smallest of straits. Miltiades conquered this land and became tyrant there.
Pisistratus ruled peacefully for 19 years, and so when he died in 527, his two sons, Hippias and Hipparchus, succeeded him. For 13 years, they ruled, growing steadily in hubris and pride, comporting themselves more like the pharaohs of Egypt than as good Greek citizens. It could not last forever, and so there came a reckoning.
One hot night in the summer of 514, Hipparchus had a dream he did not understand – a young, beautiful man spoke to him beside his bed, warning him in the cryptic manner of dreams that crimes must be paid for. Hipparchus woke with a jolt, and surely would have sought to make amends, but he did not have the time, for it was the morning of the Great Panathenea – the entire region would be gathering for its once-yearly festival to make a procession to the temple of Athena atop the Acropolis.
Hurrying across the square, Hipparchus saw two men detach themselves from the shadow of a temple and approach them. He would have recognized them with a start. One was Harmodius, the handsomest man in Athens. Next to him was Aristogiton, his lover, who Hipparchus had attempted to take for his own ends. His attempt to split the couple was to prove his death.
Dreading the power of the tyrant, with no other options, the two lovers had been waiting for just such an opportunity. Now, with his bodyguards distracted by the crowds and noise of the Panathenea, they cut him down. Harmodius was killed immediately in retaliation, Aristogiton, tortured for a few days before he was disposed of, revealed no other conspirators. But could the surviving brother, Hippias, afford to believe there was no wider plot? Already there were whispers on the streets that the two men had struck not in a sordid lover’s quarrel, but in the noble cause of freedom.
Desperate and frightened, Hippias abandoned the delicate balance that he, and his father before him, had walked between appeasement and terror. Scythian patrols were stepped up. Prominent noblemen were arrested and executed. He relied upon naked terror, sequestering himself on the Acropolis amongst his foreign mercenaries, and Athens was washed in blood. Terrorized, the people began to actively plot to free themselves from the tyranny, but who could oppose the soldiers of the Pisistratids?
Salvation came from the unlikeliest of quarters: From Sparta, the great garrison city of the Peloponnese. Their king, Cleomenes, had led a long and checkered career since coming to the throne six years before. He had barely won it, after an inheritance dispute with his brother, an incident which shadowed most of his career. Barely a year after his ascension, he led an army north of the Isthmus. It was an ominous statement of intent – before now, the army of Sparta had never left the Peloponnese. But Cleomenes had his eye on the dominance of all Greece.
On this expedition, the tiny city of Plataea had appealed to him for help against their neighbor, Thebes, the greatest city on the Boeotian plain. Cleomenes had cunningly suggested that the Plataeans turn instead to their neighbor, Athens, for help. The brother-tyrants there had marched to the tiny city’s defense and won an overwhelming victory, and with it the undying loyalty of Plataea. However, it came at the cost of Thebes, whose alliance had supported the tyranny since Pisistratus’s conquest 25 years before.
Now, with the instability and terror in Athens, Cleomenes was approached by a group that had been biding their time for decades now: The Alcmaeonids. They pointed out that Athens, under the scheming and plotting of Hippias, was the most dangerous threat to Sparta’s interests since the fall of Argos. Cleomenes was inclined to agree, but how could he launch an unprovoked attack on another Greek city? Some justification would have to be found.
The Alcmaeonids, during their long exiles, had found a ready excuse. They had cultivated the friendship of the Oracle at Delphi, and had obtained massive amounts of gold from Croesus of Lydia before his fall. This was not for nothing. Now, whenever the Spartans consulted the Oracle, one answer came back: It was the duty of Sparta to set Athens free.
Who could resist the will of a god? The pious warriors in 510 marched on Athens in overwhelming force. Hippias, defeated and humbled, was forced into exile. The tyranny in Athens was ended.
Now what? The struggle for the future of Athens now rested on two men. Cleisthenes was the head of the Alcmaeonids, the man who had brought the Spartan king to Athens. He had no intention of seeing his city become a mere Spartan client state. Cleomenes, who had engaged in a thoroughly illegal war and shed his countrymen’s blood winning the city, intended just that.
However, change had come to Athens. The long shadow of the tyranny had forever destroyed the prestige of the ruling Eupatrid class. But, with the Eupatrids removed, and the tyranny deposed, where did power lie?
It was Cleisthenes, the Alcmaeonid, who first recognized the answer and so won his struggle with Cleomenes. Power, kratos, he decided, since it lay not with the aristocracy, nor no longer in any one man, lay in the people. Very well. Addressing an assembly of the people, Cleisthenes revealed this revolutionary concept: Power lay in the people. Demokratia.
His move was stunning. Cleomenes was enraged, shocked beyond disbelief. This new “democracy” seemed to him a cheap scam to win Cleisthenes popular support. He brought his Spartan army to the city and the Alcmaeonid fled for his life. Cleomenes, relaxing in victory, brought in a small bodyguard and established himself on the Acropolis. There, with a puppet, Isagoras, he began to dictate a new constitution. No more of this “democracy” nonsense. Anti-Spartan elements were to be rounded up and executed. Athens would become a Spartan subject state.
As the two men, king and traitor, deliberated, however, there came a noise from the streets. Far below them, an ominous and violent sound drifted up. The two men worriedly peered down from the battlements of the Acropolis – and were shocked by what they saw. Violent mobs of Athenians rampaged towards the hill. The city itself had turned out to defend their new-found freedoms.
The King of Sparta, the most mighty state in Greece, was run out by the people of Athens. Democracy survived this first attempt to snuff it out. It was 507 BC.
For the next several years, Cleisthenes worked to write and entrench the new Athenian constitution. No government like this had existed before, it would take time to work out. But while he worked, his neighbors watched with fear.
The danger was obvious. The Attican plain had long been one of the largest, most populous areas of Greece. Ever before, however, the people of Athens had been divided in their petty dynastic feuds and rivalries. Now, however, united, they emerged to rival Sparta herself was one of the most powerful cities in Greece.
The Spartan king Cleomenes, in particular, was worried. His opponents were criticizing him for having effectively served as the midwife of the new democracy. His position at home was eroding. With the questions as to his legitimacy on the throne, and the other king, Demaratus, working to increase his own power, Cleomenes had to act. He resolved to destroy Athens and democracy once and for all.
And so in 506 the Spartan army again marched north. Not alone this time. States from all across the Peloponnese were forced to contribute contingents to the army. Thebes, still smarting from her defeat at Plataea a decade before, prepared to invade from the north and west. From the east, the city of Chalcis on the island of Euboea sent men. The entire Greek world seemed to be uniting against Athens.
Only a miracle, it seemed, could deliver the new army of democracy as it marched to the Isthmus to confront the Spartan host. Yet, it seemed miracles did happen after all. The Spartan kings fell into quarrelling – and their army withdrew!
But the new model army still had a test to face. From the north there advanced the army of Thebes, after Sparta the greatest of the Greek cities. The Athenians determinedly marched north. It was a tense moment. Ever before, the Athenians had fought for an aristocrat, for their clan, because the tyrant had commanded them. Could the passion of a man fighting for his clan be channeled to a man fighting for his liberty – nothing more than an idea, after all? Would the men be willing to defend democracy with their lives?
The answer, resoundingly, triumphantly, was yes. The Theban army was annihilated, and on the same day, the Athenians crossed the sea and landed on Euboea, forcing Chalcis into a humiliating peace. An Athenian colony was established there. Athens, suddenly, shockingly, was a great power.
In the 100 years from the reforms of Solon to the democracy of Cleisthenes, Athens had always been divided and weak. The aristocratic clans had struggled with each other, with the people, and with men like Pisistratus for supremacy. Under the reign of the tyrants the city was stable, but weak and unadventurous. Now, though, within a year of the foundation of democracy, Athens found herself perhaps the greatest power in all of Greece. Democracy, it seemed, could be made to work.
It was none too soon. From across the sea, in Persia, there were coming ominous rumblings.
No comments:
Post a Comment